


The Eagle and the Jay

by Siana



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: 30-Day Fic Meme, AC Drabbles, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 20:15:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 16,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siana/pseuds/Siana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles for the 30 day challenge. Most parts are losely tied and some build on each other. A few are independent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Holding Hands

The streets were full of people going on about their businesses. Many of them were in a hurry to get whatever that business was done, but there was one small island of calm amidst the swirling masses. Two men were waling side by side, actually taking their time to watch the things in the shop windows, pausing here and there to point at things and make fun of the other’s tastes.  
But secretly Altair was also watching something else. Whenever Desmond was engrossed by another item Altair would rest his eyes on the other man’s form. By now he knew everything there was to see but that didn’t mean the sight ever got boring. Desmond didn’t give away if he was aware of Altair’s staring but if he was he at least never commented on it. And it was fine really, as long as he could watch, Altair was happy.  
Desmond rose from his somewhat crouched position he had bent into to get a better look at some kitchen utensils, no ‘bartending equipment’ Altair corrected himself mentally. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. Altair smiled as Desmond pulled him to the next window, grabbing his arm so casually as if it was nothing. And maybe it was, at least for Desmond who didn’t think of their relationship other than as friendship.  
This time Altair wasn’t looking at Desmond’s back and neck, the usual spot where his eyes ended up glued to but at his hand that had held on to him just a moment ago. He wanted to hold that hand, to intertwine his fingers with Desmond and walk through the streets like one of those silly lovey-dovey couples. Only deep down he didn’t think they were silly, he wanted to be like them to show off his love to Desmond for all the world to see.  
Because that was what lovers did, wasn’t it?  
Desmond sighed and ran his hand, the hand through his short hair. They both were not exactly loaded with money so it usually only went as far as window shopping that didn’t mean that they couldn’t wish though. “I’m hungry, let’s eat dinner.” Desmond suggested and his hand dropped down to his side again. Altair decided then that he was done waiting, he wanted to hold hands now and there was no reason whatsoever not to try at least.  
He nodded and Desmond looked around to determine where they had to go from there. “Let’s eat out.” Altair suggested out of nowhere and he used the moment Desmond was startled from the unusual proposition to grab on to his hand. For a moment Desmond looked at him, surprised but then his mouth twitched into a smile, deforming the scar on the side of his mouth that he shared with Altair.  
“Lead the way.” He leaned forward and pecked a kiss on Altair’s cheek.  
That had gone exactly as planned.


	2. Cuddling somewhere

It was getting late and under any other circumstances he would have started to worry about the fact that Altair wasn’t home yet. But this was Altair we were talking about and Desmond would be damned if he ever got worried about him again. Altair could very well take care of himself and really worrying got him nowhere, especially since Altair usually didn’t understand at all why Desmond would even be worried.  
Desmond took the remote and switched channels but at this late hour there was nothing really interesting going on. He tossed the remote back on the coffee table and leaned into the couch cushions, watching some recycled documentary about deep sea diving submarines. Briefly he contemplated to go to be but he wasn’t tired yet. His sleeping schedule was messed up anyway, usually at this time he would be working at his job as bartender but since it was his day off he was home and wide awake.   
Altair was out and doing his job and Desmond really preferred it not to think about what the specifics about that were, he had come home more than often with blood on his clothes. He was not an amateur though, the blood stains never got too obvious but in time Desmond had developed a reliable sixth sense when it came to spotting blood on Altair. He knew he should be intimidated by the other’s profession, scared even but he found himself strangely fascinated with Altair’s line of work. He chose not to dwell on too many details though, it was safer that way.  
The door lock clicked faintly and Desmond craned his neck to see into the small hall where a person in white was pulling off his boots. Desmond muted the television but stayed where he was on the couch, watching as Altair shrugged off his coat and hung it on a hook on the side of the wall. No blood stains today.  
“Hello Desmond.” He greeted, his face was set into sharp lines but around the eyes his features softened as he laid eyes on the man that lounged on the couch. Desmond waved only as a greeting and skidded over to make space for Altair. With a grin Altair stepped over and sat down with long trained grace. Desmond silently envied him for that.  
“Welcome home.” He whispered as he leaned over and kissed Altair fully on the lips. Altair’s grin widened, now taking on the characteristics of a smirk. Desmond shoved him down and placed himself half in his lap and Altair allowed him gladly to make himself comfortable as he snuggled in his arms. Altair used his foot to catapult the remote back on the couch and switched the volume back on, resettling so that he could rest his chin on the top of Desmond’s head.  
They spent the rest of the night with cuddling and watching TV.


	3. Gaming

“Watch out.” Desmond laughed as Altair’s character got shot down from the ledge he was just trying to climb on and was immediately swarmed by guards in red that had killed him in less than five seconds. Altair didn’t seem to mind that he just died for the approximately tenth time on the same quest as he waited patiently for the game to reload.  
Desmond shook his head internally; he had never seen someone so inept at video games like Altair. He contemplated taking the controller back and continue playing himself, that at least was getting him somewhere but it was so rare for them to spend time like this that it was worth the constant dying.  
“You really suck at this.” Desmond commented as Altair failed at the exact same spot than last time, only this time he hold out against the guards a little longer. Altair just shrugged and waited again to continue on his endless cycle of futility. Desmond would have thrown the controller out of the window by now; he got frustrated far too easily. But then again he had much more skill with things like this.  
“Do you actually even try?” Desmond asked when Altair died after 10 seconds into the quest. If only Altair got worse instead of better. It was hard to believe that he actually did something similar in real life. “There is nothing at stake so what’s the point?” shifted in his seat on the living room couch and pulled his legs under his body, his favorite sitting position. Desmond cast him a questioning glance. “Isn’t solving the game challenge enough?”   
Altair looked at him; he didn’t wear his hood up for once so his eyes were fully visible for a change. Not that Desmond was any good in reading eyes. “It is too easy to be a challenge.” He returned to look at the screen where his character hung from a two story building and did what he could do best, gathering the attention of every guard in range. Desmond snorted. “So you think this is too easy?” He pointed with his head to the white clad character that was yet again mutilated by a bunch of guards with anger management issues.   
“Yes.” Altair only said and Desmond seriously wondered why he actually was still bothering with playing. “I don’t believe you.” Desmond challenged but Altair only shot him a glance. So he wouldn’t just accept the challenge. Desmond needed to bait him with something and he knew exactly what that was. “Finish that quest in less than one minute and I’ll show you that special show move of Ezio.”  
Altair perked up, it was an almost unperceivable gesture but Desmond knew what he had to look for and knew that his interest was piqued. The bar in which Desmond worked also employed a few dancers and one of those, Ezio, had a famed finishing move on stage that he taught Desmond and Altair had always wanted to see him perform it but Desmond had refused so far. He knew it would come in handy some time.  
“Very well.” Altair growled and waited until his character was dead once again, didn’t take him that long really. “Watch the clock.” He commanded as the loading screen dissolved. Desmond half expected him to fail again but to his astonishment Altair’s character suddenly seemed to fly through the scene, he jumped from roof to roof without anyone spotting him and the target was dead in the blink of an eye.  
“So?” Altair asked smugly once he had clicked away the confirmations of his success. “Uh…” Desmond had totally missed to watch the time but there was no doubt that it had been in less than one minute. Honestly he had never seen someone use the game controls in this manner, it was nothing short of perfection. Damn and he had thought he had finally found something he could do better than Altair aside from mixing drinks obviously.  
“You’ll get your show.” Desmond groaned and got up to prepare.


	4. On a date

Desmond tapped his finger against the smooth wooden surface and checked for the probably tenth time the time on his wrist watch. Altair wasn’t overly late but he was late and on a date like this that was unusual.   
The waiter came by but saw that Desmond was still alone at the table and so he walked away again. Altair’s schedule could spontaneously change as he had to react to the situation but to a date with Desmond he usually tried to be punctual. Desmond sighed; it was not that he couldn’t understand his boyfriend being late, as skilled as he was even Altair couldn’t force circumstances. But he had been sitting here for at least ten minutes and he started to get pitiful glances from the neighboring table. No, not pitying, condescending. It was a rather upper-class restaurant, Altair’s treat, as Desmond would never waste money on something like this, and he was dressed what these people probably considered ordinary.   
He didn’t mind the stares, not really, but was getting hungry and Altair still wasn’t here. Desmond didn’t really care about where they ate, and neither did Altair but this was their anniversary and so they had decided to do something special for once. Only Altair was late.   
Right when Desmond was contemplating to order a drink to pass the time, the hostess that had brought him to the table returned with a man clad in white behind her. So Altair hadn’t even had time to change. The hostess waited until Altair was seated before disappearing again and Desmond looked in the smiling face of his partner.   
“You’re late.” He stated, it wasn’t an accusation, he merely pointed out the obvious. Altair grinned and reached over to take Desmond’s hand in his. “Quality needs time.” And Desmond snorted which earned him a few scandalized glances from the table next to them.   
“What was the hold up?” Desmond asked as he squeezed the cold hand with his fingers. It was not winter yet but the nights were already rather cool outside. “I needed to get something.” Altair said and Desmond raised his eyebrows, he needed to learn to do that with only one but until then, two it was. It was probably better not to get into details though; it was safer for him to now know the specifics of Altair’s profession, not only because of the potential risk that put him in but also for the peace of his mind. Ignorance is bliss or so the saying went.  
“But you got it now?” The waiter arrived and handed them the menu and Desmond noted with a grudge that he got the menu without price tags. What was he, a woman? Altair smiled at him again, amber eyes shining in the light of the candles and Desmond couldn’t help it, his heart beat a bit faster. “Yes I did.” Altair said and then they were silent as each decided on what to eat.   
Once the waiter had taken both their orders and the menus in exchange for a bottle of expensive champagne Altair took Desmond’s hand again. Only this time there was something in them, something cool and metal and suspiciously round. Altair let go of his hand to open the Champagne and Desmond looked at the object that was lying inconspicuously in the palm of his hand. “You’re kidding.” He blurted, the first thing that came to mind really and then he just looked at the man in front of him who seemed so damn smug as he poured the Champagne.  
“I’m serious.” He didn’t even need to ask the question, all he had to do was smiling at Desmond with his eyes alight with both love and desire and there was really only one answer Desmond could give. “Yes.” He breathed as his hand closed around the silver ring with the red and white stones embedded at the top. “Oh god yes.” And he slipped the band on his ring finger.


	5. Kissing

There were only a few things that could really make Altair smile. Getting a job done in a favorable manner was one of them. At this point we better not delve too much into just what defined a favorable manner, it was of no consequence here. Led us just note that it could make Altair smile, albeit the nature of his smile could be disturbing for some.   
One other thing that made him smile sat next to him with the most adorable pouting expression Altair had ever seen. He usually didn’t think in terms as ‘adorable’ but for the face Desmond was making tat that exact moment there was simply no better way of describing.   
And the reason for that pout was Altair himself. He just knew what to say and what buttons to push to get Desmond to sulk and even though he knew that Desmond hated it he couldn’t help it. The sight was simply too rewarding. And it wasn’t as if he wouldn’t make it up to Desmond.  
“I was only saying that the Ladies will be disappointed now that you have this.” He took Desmond’s hand and ran his thumb along the thin metal band. It looked silver but for the trained eye it was obvious that he wouldn’t be content with something plain as silver, no it was platinum. The stones where rubies and diamonds and it simply looked gorgeous on his fiancé’s finger.  
Desmond pulled his hand away and folded his arms in front of his chest. “Stop saying that.” He looked away as he spoke. Altair’s smile widened and he scooted over to get even closer to his partner. He knew Desmond liked him saying that it only got him embarrassed and Desmond hated o be embarrassed. And maybe the fact that his female customers (and a few male ones) kept getting on his nerves about the ‘lucky lass’ who caught his heart wasn’t helping. No one seemed to ever figure out that the lass was actually a lad.  
Altair breathed a kiss against Desmond’s neck, feeling a shiver run down the other’s spine. Knowing Desmond’s erogenous zones always worked out to his advantage. “Okay.” Altair conceded and chuckled softly as he grazed his teeth against the sensitive skin. He had more important things on his mind than to mess with Desmond. Well okay, he was going to mess with Desmond but in a way the other liked.   
“You’re impossible.” Desmond groaned but finally faced him. “I know.” Altair caught Desmond’s lips in his, lingering there only for a moment before he spoke again. “That’s why you love me.” And he kissed him again, longer this time but still only chaste. “Isn’t that right?”   
“Shut up.” Desmond commanded and pulled him into a long deep kiss, his tongue pressing into Altair’s mouth to show him just how much he loved him. The hand with the ring found its way into his hair and Altair smiled as he caught sight of a red crystal blinking in the light on the way up.


	6. Wearing each other's clothes

The sound of the shower accompanied Desmond’s try at making breakfast. He had a bit of trouble with the eggs but in the end he managed to get them as fluffy as he liked them. He flipped the bacon (turkey, especially for Altair) one last time before turning off the stove. Altair was not yet finished in the bathroom so he put a cover over the pans to keep the food inside warm.  
The water was turned off a moment later as Desmond poured two glasses of orange juice. He heard Altair shout something but he didn’t understand what exactly through the closed door so he stepped out into the hall and yelled back a ‘What?’   
“Where are my clothes?” Altair repeated, sounding a bit annoyed about the fact that his clothes hadn’t been where he expected them. “Laundry.” Desmond simply replied and returned to the kitchen when he didn’t get another reply aside from loud grumbling. Altair always forgot to put out his clothes and ended up walking dripping wet through the house until Desmond shooed him back into the bathroom for he hated to get the wooden floor wet.   
Only this time Altair didn’t come out wet and dripping, he finally seemed to have understood the purpose of a towel. Desmond filled two plates with food and set them out on the table, it shouldn’t take long now for Altair to be ready and he was getting rather hungry.   
“Morning.” Altair greeted as he entered the kitchen a few minutes later and Desmond lifted his head to answer; only his sentence got cut off mid sentence as he realized just exactly what Altair was wearing. “That is my shirt.” He stated a bit dumbfounded. “And your pants and underwear.” Altair added and sat down across from Desmond, carefully eying the food on his plate. Desmond was not the best cook around and occasionally burnt the bacon, not this time though.  
“You still have some spare clothes in your wardrobe.” Desmond said, but he was not really mad, not when his clothes fit so tightly around Altair’s more muscular form, the style so different from what he usually wore but it was not unpleasant at all. On the contrary.   
Altair just shrugged, and Desmond could see the muscle movement under the fine fabric of his shirt. “You told me I shouldn’t drip water on the floor.” Desmond contemplated to say something to that but then decided that the view was definitely worth the verbal loss.   
Definitely.


	7. Cosplaying

“Is this really necessary?” Altair asked with more than a hint of annoyance in his voice as he tugged at the wide cloth around his frame. He hated to wear impracticable clothes, they restricted his movements and made him feel like a target pinned to a wall. But when Desmond set his mind on something it was kind of hard to withstand.  
“Yes.” Desmond said with a grin, and much to Altair’s chagrin the other didn’t seem uncomfortable at all with his own costume. They were at a convention, and somehow Altair couldn’t quite recall how Desmond had actually gotten him to attend something ridiculous as a games convention. Seriously, he had more important things to do. But Desmond had a way of getting what he wanted when he really wanted them. And Altair had learned the hard way that it sometimes was better to just go with the flow. He could back at Desmond later for this.  
Oh and how he would get back at him.  
They were both wearing matching costumes for some video game Desmond was obsessed with and Altair remembered vaguely having tried it out himself but he really didn’t see the point in games for when there were more important things going on in real life. But alas, Desmond had wanted to go and here he was.   
“What am I again?” Altair dared to ask, but the name told him nothing and he was only glad that he didn’t end up as one of the princesses Desmond was so fond on rescuing. The only plus side to this was that the costume Desmond chose for himself was flattering his physique and showed off a decent amount of skin. So at least he had something to distract him from the many weirdly dressed people around him and the almost unbearable and overabundant stench of sweat that penetrated the air, but that was something inevitable when so many people came together.  
“We’re almost in.” Desmond almost bounced on his toes as he tried to get a look past the few heads that were still between them and the entrance to the big halls that housed the convention. As soon as they were handed their admission tickets Desmond grabbed Altair’s hand and pulled him in the first hall, where the smell in the air was even more palpable.  
Desmond dragged him from stall to stall and they were more than once stopped and asked to be photographed, a request Desmond fulfilled gladly. It was at one of those photo incidents when Altair decided to get something out of this and so he kissed Desmond just when the girl hit the release, full on the mouth and to a choir of whooping girls that quickly dissolved into a fit of giggles.  
“I think you just birthed a ship.” Desmond grinned afterwards. Altair didn’t know, or want to know for that matter, what a ship was, but honestly, he couldn’t care less.


	8. Shopping

Desmond was not the biggest fan of going shopping but like with so many things he didn’t always have a choice. There came eventually the time when he had simply nothing left in his wardrobe and only when the last option to wear was one of his mother’s favorite Christmas sweaters did he decided that it was enough and he needed to go shopping.  
The only one who abhorred shopping even more than he did was Altair. Since Altair’s wardrobe suffered from the same degrading clothing state than Desmond’s they had established a well functioning routine. They simply went shopping together and that made it at least minimal bearable.  
They also had similar taste in clothes, which made shopping also a bit easier because they didn’t need to visit the double amount of shops. Desmond was sifting through a bunch of white hoodies, looking for the right size for both him and Altair, it had actually gone quite well so far, no long lines in front of fitting rooms or cashier areas and they both had found a good amount of clothes already. Shopping could even be fun like this.  
He pulled out the hoody in his size and held it in front of him, checking in the mirror if it was okay. Altair chose that moment to come up behind him, arms full of clothes and a resigned expression on his face. “What do you think?” Desmond asked, Sweater still poised in front of him as he shot Altair a questioning glance. Altair smirked and shrugged, as far as Desmond knew the most vocal answer he would get from the other regarding clothing choices.   
It was good enough for Desmond.  
“I’ll get you one too.” He informed Altair who just shrugged and looked as if he was about to simply dump the pile of clothes in his arms on the floor and walk out. Time to go then. Desmond collected a hoody for Altair and took the clothes he had amassed so far on a forgotten side table and ventured to the next open checkout.   
The cashier looked positively terrified as they both dumped their clothes in front of her and while Desmond tried to smile reassuringly Altai’s stare was a threat to her life and family. She worked as fast as she could and had them checked out in record time. Desmond paid and tried not to flinch at the amount, that was the downside of buying everything at once, the price was pretty high.   
“Let’s get something to eat.” Desmond suggested after they had left. He always felt drained after a shopping trip and he knew Altair didn’t fare any better. And like this they could at least get something good out of the day.


	9. Hanging out with friends

“This round’s on me.” Desmond announced as he placed a round of shot glasses on the table, his words were welcomed with a loud cheer from the group of friends that had showed up. One of the perks of being a barkeeper was that Desmond got a huge discount on all the drinks in his club, if they made them themselves they didn’t even have to pay at all.   
“Thanks kid.” Ezio said with a grin and clapped Desmond a hand on the shoulder, to which he only got a rolling of eyes as reply. Ezio worked there too, so technically he could get his own free drinks but still he acknowledged the effort Desmond took in getting up to make them. Ezio only chuckled and passed on the shots, he knew that Desmond hated it to be called kid, but he enjoyed too much messing with him to ever consider stopping.   
The others thanked Desmond with variations from nods to thumbs up to low grunts and then they lifted the glasses and downed the drink in one go. Desmond slightly winced, he wasn’t too fond of shots, he preferred the more sophisticated taste of mixed cocktails but even he had to bend to the pressure of his peers at times. “And what did Altair say when you showed him the move?” Ezio asked and hadn’t Desmond already swallowed his drink he would have probably sputtered everything over the table.   
Ezio was a bit touchy feely and often got too close for comfort. Not to mention that he had a habit of bringing up topics when they were least expected and thus had the biggest impact. Or rather he just liked to mess with Desmond.   
“No comment.” Desmond said dryly and edged a bit away from the other, earning a curious glance from Altair on the other side of the table. Ezio just grinned good naturedly and pushed the empty shot glasses to the side where they would be collected by a waiter.   
“How about a little contest?” Rebecca suddenly asked, a grin that promised nothing good wide on her face and the way Lucy next to her looked it really could only be something bad. Never let the girls team up on something.   
But at this point everyone at the table knew that resistance was futile and they could protest as much as they wanted, in the end the Ladies would get what they wanted, and to be honest more than once their idea had proven to be really fun in the end.   
“Just make it quick.” Malik groaned, but it was only halfheartedly, he as well as the others had long since accepted his fate. “Oh come on.” Rebecca teased, “it is only a drinking game, you guys should have no problems right?” Of course that was a bait, Rebecca simply was too smart for it not to be. She knew exactly how to taunt the others to get them to play along and the proposal of alcohol never used much incentive to begin with but making a contest out of it was almost like catnip for a cat.   
“Are you in?” Rebecca asked and was already turned around to place the order for the game material. Desmond couldn’t shake the feeling that he would regret this.  
The game was on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece will be continued directly in the next chapter


	10. With animal ears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the last Drabble

“And you’re out.” Rebecca announced, speech slightly slurred from too much alcohol and her words were met with a mixture of growls and cheers. Shaun only shrugged and leaned back in his chair, he was not so much of a drinker; hence he didn’t mind that he had lost this early in the game.  
The table was loaded with drinks at this point, everyone had a cocktail and a few empty shot glasses in front of them, a bunch of liquor bottles was positioned in the middle, and more than one glass had toppled over already, creating a wet stain on the wooden table surface. The stakes were high, the tension rising and no one had the muse to fret over spilled liquor.  
Shaun was not the first to drop out though, Lucy, ever the responsible one, had given up before him and was now keeping an eye out for potential cheaters. The rules were simple, whoever’s turn it was chose what to drink and who couldn’t keep up lost.   
It was Desmond’s turn and he choose to drink from his cocktail, a well measured sip and Lucy made sure that everyone drank the same amount. The key was to fake the drinking, so that the other’s thought he had taken a sip while in truth he hadn’t. Lucy tried her best, but even she couldn’t see everything and so Desmond had actually managed to stay pretty sober, thanks to his preference for cocktails. You couldn’t really cheat with shot glasses, aside from tossing the contents on the floor and that was almost impossible with Lucy watching the table like a hawk, with the help of Shaun now.  
Ezio stuck to shot glasses and was soon out as he accidentally breathed some of the alcohol in when Rebecca tickled him in a key moment and since spitting out half of the alcohol was considered cheating he was disqualified by Lucy. To be fair though Lucy also disqualified Rebecca for messing with other contestants was considered foul play and not accepted.   
That left Malik, Altair and himself and Desmond feared that his not actually drink anything tactic wouldn’t help much longer. Lucy was growing suspicious as to why the contents of his glass hadn’t dwindled and so she ordered him to take shots from now on.  
But before the game could continue Rebecca pulled something out of her bag, causing the three remaining contestants to internally groan. They knew there had been a catch. “The winner gets to choose who has to wear these on their way home.” She declared and waved the pair of fluffy cat ears in the air. At least they were black and not pink.   
Before the game had only be a contest for endurance, now it was a fierce battle for the chance to humiliate one of their friends, and neither of the three was ready to forfeit that chance, or maybe they simply didn’t want to be the one who had to wear them.   
It was at this point that Desmond’s strategy paid off, and of course he had a higher tolerance to begin with, his job kind of required it sometimes that he tasted his own creations and customers, especially female ones, liked to buy him drinks. Between Altair and Malik it was a tie, and it was again Lucy who decided that it was enough for both of them looked like one more drink would make them pass out, declaring Desmond the winner.  
He had half a mind to put the ears on Rebecca for bringing them up to begin with but he figured that she wouldn’t really mind and so he went with plan B, which probably would get him into trouble but that was definitely worth it.  
\------  
“You look cute.” Desmond told Altair once they had said goodbye and were on their way home. Thankfully the bar wasn’t far away from their apartment and so he only had to drag Altair for a short while. He was pretty drunk but not drunk enough to not be able to walk on his own, he simply was difficult about having lost to Desmond.  
And maybe the pair of fluffy black cat ears on his head had something to do with it. Still Desmond thought he looked almost adorable.


	11. Wearing kigurumis

Desmond wasn’t sure if he liked this or hated this. He felt grossly sticky with sweat and it was pretty hot but on the other hand he got to see the hilarious faces some people made when he approached them. It was a good thing though that no one saw his face; he doubted his pride would be able to take that blow. He didn’t really want to know how worse it must be for Altair.  
After the mess they had made with their drinking game the other night, Desmond’s boss had decided that a little punishment was in order and so he had stuffed the ridiculous costume of a giant water pipe with legs and eyes into his hands he apparently got from Japan and ordered him to advertise the bar’s new service to the masses. And for good measurement he had thrown in another costume, of a girly water pipe no less, for one of Desmond’s friends, preferably Ezio who had partaken in the elimination of a good portion of the bar’s alcohol stock.   
Ezio had chickened out though and so Desmond had taken up the part and dressed up into a pink frilly water pipe with big anime eyes and long curly eyelashes. Desmond could only imagine the thoughts that had gone through Altair’s head at that moment, but he had done it nevertheless, as a favor for Desmond, and the other was more than grateful for that.   
His boss was a chill guy most of the time but sometimes Clay could come up with the weirdest ideas and then there was no stopping him until the idea was through. He had quite a weird assortment of friends, Desmond reflected.  
So far most people either laughed and took pictures of the hookah duo or tried to rush past as fast as possible with a mostly bewildered expression. A few people however actually stayed, interested in the new service that was provided and Desmond eagerly gestured them inside, hoping that Clay would eventually let them off the hook if they just brought in enough customers.  
Desmond was beginning to feel a bit lightheaded inside the tight costume, the small slit in front of his mouth didn’t provide enough air to stand around all day and he longed for a place to sit down. But just at that moment another group of young adults came around the corner, looking as if they were potential customers and so Desmond forced himself up to do his job. White noise was suddenly filling his ears, drowning everything else out.  
Next thing he remembered was the feeling of precious air on his skin and a mild confusion as to why he was suddenly lying down. “You should have said something.” A familiar voice scolded and he was looking up into Altair’s worried eyes. Desmond tried to get his bearings and realized that he was in the bar’s back rooms where he normally changed before work and that he was lying with his head in Altair’s lap, a cool wet cloth on his forehead.  
“What happened?” He asked, still confused since he couldn’t remember coming here. “You fainted.” Altair explained and took away the cloth only to rest his hand in its place. Desmond hummed, recalling the stuffy interior of his costume and how lightheaded he had felt. No wonder he had fainted. “That hopefully has Clay cured of his mad ideas.” Desmond grumbled and closed his eyes again as the ceiling light was a bit too bright for his liking.   
“You got me worried.” Altair’s voice was close to his ears and he could feel his warm breath against the side of his face. “Sorry.” Desmond whispered, raising his hand to place on the nape of Altair’s neck bent over him. He only got a light chuckle as answer and a soft kiss pressed on his temple.


	12. Making out

Altair liked to come home. It had not been always like that, he could remember a time when coming home held nothing special, it was just on deed among the many he did on the day. But now he had started to like it, for there was someone waiting for him, a special someone.  
A smile graced Altair’s lips as he spotted the sleeping form on the couch. Desmond had waited for him as it seems but had fallen asleep sometime prior. The television was on but muted, one arm hung down over the side and Desmond’s mouth was slightly open, a bit of drool leaking out.  
He set down his bag carefully as not to disturb the sleeping man and stepped over to turn off the television. Altair leaned over Desmond and placed a gentle kiss on the other’s temple but before he could rise again he was suddenly grasped within a firm grip and found himself looking into Desmond’s warm eyes. So he hadn’t been really asleep.  
“Welcome home.” Desmond murmured and pulled Altair down into a kiss, his hand found its way in Altair’s neck and held him there so that he couldn’t get away. As if Altair had any inclination of going anywhere. Desmond tasted of the dinner he had eaten, spicy and a bit of tomato, pizza most likely. Altair managed to climb on the sofa without breaking the kiss; he wedged one knee in between Desmond and the back rest and shoved his hands under the other’s body to lift him up and closer to him.   
Desmond groaned and broke the kiss, eyes a bit dazed as he adjusted to the new position. He was never too comfortable with Altair supporting most of his weight but he had learned at some point that the other had the strength to hold him up. Altair lowered him down again, in favor of gliding his hand under the hem of Desmond’s shirt, feeling the warmth of living flesh underneath and tickling the sensitive skin over his hip bone.   
He chuckled softly and pulled Altair back down once again, only this time into a deeper kiss and while the other was exploring his body he claimed his mouth with his tongue. Somehow the shirt ended up askew on the floor, followed by Altair’s and soon Desmond was panting softly as Altair nipped on his collar bone and his hands ventured further, into more alluring places.  
Another soft groan emitted and Desmond pushed his knee up in between Altair’s legs, rubbing against the bulge that had formed in his pants, causing the other to push down on him so that both their erections got some friction. Desmond let his hand trail along Altair’s back and over the firm round of his ass and down the thighs where he knew Altair was especially sensitive.   
Altair retaliated with a flick of tongue against Desmond’s nipple, followed by the soft grazing of teeth. Desmond’s breath hitched and his eyes caught the self satisfied smirk on Altair’s lips, the scar accentuating the expression in its own unique way. “Bedroom?” Altair asked, voice dark and husky, irresistible to the man beneath. “Bedroom.” Desmond agreed.


	13. Eating ice cream

It was a hot day, much to Desmond’s chagrin. Altair on the other hand seemed to enjoy the heat, but considering his background that was not so much of a surprise. Growing up around a desert where it was even hotter than here he must think that this was a mild spring or something. But Desmond liked that side on Altair because it made him needy for warmth and cuddles in winter time, well sometimes at least.   
But it was summer at the moment and Desmond had already shed his favorite hoody and he was actually contemplating to take off his shirt as well, while Altair was still comfortable in his hooded jacket. Desmond cursed himself for wearing a black shirt underneath, because seriously, nothing is worse than wearing black under a hot scorching sun without shade.   
Desmond checked his watch again, frowning as only a minute had passed since the last time he looked. They had arrived early at their designated meeting point and now they had to wait under the unrelenting sun for the other two to arrive.   
Altair sat on the backrest of a bench, face shadowed under his pulled up hood and he just seemed so cool and relaxed it made Desmond envious. Just when he started to walk in circles, just to get the illusion of air moving against his hot skin he heard a call from behind. He turned around and saw Shaun with Rebecca in row, and it satisfied him deeply to see that Shaun wore his usual sweater over shirt combo and boy must that be hot.   
After greetings were done, handshakes, no hugs, they started to make their way down the road to where the entry of the zoo was. It had been Rebecca’s idea and Desmond had thought why not and joined in, Altair who had some interests in predatory animals tagged along and so it had become a double date.   
“I’m going to buy some ice cream.” Desmond declared once they had bought their tickets and had entered the zoo premises. As usual there were many ice cream stall along the pathways and Desmond was glad for once for their existence. “That is unwise. The ice cream will only cause your metabolism rate to rise to make up for the loss of temperature and you’ll end up hotter than you already are.”   
“Shut up Shaun.” Rebecca and Desmond said in unison and Shaun just rolled his eyes, muttering something about ‘uneducated fools’. Shaun was probably right but to hell with that, Desmond wanted ice cream.  
To his surprise Altair offered to buy some for everyone, except Shaun who declined, and the three of them waited, this time under the shade of an oak tree. Altair returned shortly after and distributed the cones filled with deliciously cold ice cream. And no matter what Shaun had said, Desmond felt much better with the first bits of ice cream in his stomach. He didn’t even mind when Rebecca snatched his cone and made a show of testing each flavor Altair had chosen for him.   
After Rebecca had returned his cone he hooked his arms with Altair’s and they continued licking contently licking at their ice, occasionally exchanging their cones to try the others. Desmond didn’t mind the heat at all like this.


	14. Genderswapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt was the hardest, and honestly the outcome is terrible.  
> Names are made up, I just chose what sounded good

“Why is it either sexy and uncomfortable or ugly and actual practical?” Aliyah complained as she stood in front of her wardrobe, only wearing panties and contemplating once again the downside of female underwear. Not that Diane could disagree.  
Both of them liked comfortable underwear, allowing them to move around freely and not having their breasts bounce uncomfortable at every running step. But it was as if the industry was condemning such practical thinking, because every type of sports bra was ugly as hell. The only other alternative to that were bras that suffered from too much frill and lace and no actual supporting capacity.  
This wouldn’t be so bad at all if both Aliyah and Diane wouldn’t like to wear frilly bras from time to time, they just looked so nice and could give the illusion of perfectly shaped cleavage, but as soon as the running started they lost all their appeal.  
“Can’t we just sew some frills on these?” Aliyah proposed, holding up an especially ugly sports bra, but damn it was so comfortable. Dian snorted and finally put away the book she was trying to read, but that was kind of hard with almost naked Aliyah parading around. “If you could sew that is.” Aliyah just shrugged and pulled the bra on, the straps were extra wide to not cut into the skin and it almost looked like another layer of skin. An ugly white layer of skin.  
“No one’s going to see that anyway.” Diane commented and rolled on her back, head tilted so that she still could see her better half. Aliyah shot her a glance and pulled out a shirt to finally finish dressing. “I don’t care if anyone sees it.” Her eyes flicked teasingly to Diane again, showing more than clearly that she did care for one person seeing it, “I simply like sexy underwear, there’s nothing wrong with that.” Diane could pretty much agree, but she didn’t need to say that for the other to know.  
“I like you more without underwear.” Aliyah tossed the pair of jeans she just was about to put on at Diane who easily rolled out of the way. “Sure you would.” But her face was bright with a smile and when she came to collect her jeans she didn’t do so without leaving a lingering kiss with Diane.  
“At least we get sexy underwear, even if it’s impracticable.” Aliyah commented and dived in her wardrobe to search for matching socks. “Have you seen what passes as sexy man underwear?” She continued once she had found what could pass as differently tanned sock siblings. Diane laughed and finally pushed herself up from the bed, it was time for her to get dressed too.  
No matter how many stupid underwear problems she had to face, she would always be glad to be a girl.


	15. In a different clothing style

“Are you sure we’re doing this right?” Desmond asks with a doubtful glance to the black latex plateau boots that still give him that queasy feeling of walking on stilts. Undercover mission had sounded so exciting with a tinge of danger when Altair first mentioned it, but as so many things in life it had turned out as something completely different than expected.   
Altair who seemed awfully comfortable in his black leather coat and the studded combat boots he was wearing. Not even the ridiculous amount of black eyeliner and black in general on his body and face could dampen the other’s spirit. Who would have thought that a templar would spend his free time in an underground gothic club?  
Desmond almost regretted his decision to become an assassin. The need to be able to defend himself and the constant danger that wafted around Altair and subsequently himself had spurred that decision mostly but also it was the thrill and the feeling of accomplishment that came with ridding the world of the templar threat.   
But no matter how important his task was, he still felt self conscious in his outfit of black leather and latex, and fishnet, don’t forget the fishnet. “There is no dress code per se, there are no rules as to what goes and what doesn’t, the important thing is that you show your black soul or something.” Altair explains and runs a hand through his hair. Desmond’s hair was too short to consider dying but Altair had dipped a few strands in out washable black dye, setting a nice accent against his brown hair.   
It was true though, they had been granted admission rather easily, the bouncer just looked them over and waved them in, he didn’t even seem to notice the deep red blush that spread over Desmond’s neck and ears. He had never felt more put on the spot before in his life.   
Desmond was used to the environment of a bar, the dim light, the music playing in the background and the sometimes overwhelming mass of people, but that was nothing compared to this. The light was stroboscopic, the music loud and blaring and the amount of people crammed into the space was close to terrifying.   
Desmond held on to Altair’s arm, lest he would get separated and now way in hell he was going to risk that. Altair squeezed his hand in reassurance but his eyes were scanning the crowd and Desmond wondered just how he wanted to make out the target in question when the soft gold glow reminded me of the special vision he possessed, allowing him to spot one person, blazing in red amidst the crowd of grey.   
Desmond could try eagle vision too but afterwards his head would always feel funny and with all that light flashing around he didn’t want to risk a headache. “There.” Altair’s voice was quiet, almost inaudible against the thrumming of bass but Desmond made out his lip movement, guessing the rest. They moved, together, as Altair too was unwilling to let go of his partner and so they moved through the crowd, as silent as fish in an ocean until they had closed in on the target.  
The rest was even simpler, dance, move with the disconnected beat of music, draw close to the target and with one fluid motion ease the blade into defenseless flesh. The target, a man dressed in black just like everyone else, stiffened, black painted lips slightly parted in surprise and then he slumped against another dancer, there was no room to fall and soon his blood specked his shirt, and that little speck of color in the middle of a sea of black was spotted soon enough, the club erupted in panic and screaming but the two of them were already gone by then.  
Black plateau boots thrummed against asphalt and for once the thrill of the flight outweighed the discomfort of unfamiliar shoes. Desmond no longer regretted his decision to become an assassin.


	16. During their morning rituals

Desmond was not a morning person. He had cleverly circumvented the need to get up every morning by choosing a nighttime job. Going to bed with the sun rising had the merits of waking up somewhere in the middle of the day and more importantly being able to just lie in bed for a while until he felt ready to get up.  
His recent job addition had only added to the part, assassins nowadays mostly worked at nights and so Desmond rarely needed to go out during the day and when he did it was with friends or on a date. But like with so many things in life there were exceptions.   
This time it was a mission abroad. Desmond was not yet ranked high enough to carry out a mission of that importance on his own but he had been requested as backup by Altair, and what Altair asked for won’t be denied. And so they had to wake up at five am in the morning and as much as Desmond would have liked to make pancakes at this hour he had to get ready for a transatlantic flight.  
It was rare for them to get out of bed at the same time, but whenever they did they followed the same pattern. Altair would always without failure get up and kiss Desmond on the temple or any other part of his face that was accessible, he even did that when they didn’t get up together and Desmond could stay in bed for a little longer.   
Desmond would grunt then (if he was awake that is) and roll over, but he would get up eventually, following Altair into the bathroom. Altair had the rare ability to not be affected by mornings, he simply woke up and started his morning routine, or more precisely his ‘starting the day at whichever time fitted’ routine. As Desmond he usually worked on nights. He took a quick shower, sometimes with Desmond which most often ended in another sort of ‘cleaning’, and afterwards they would brush their teeth in what could pass as an almost perfect rhythm.  
Since they had just come out of the shower both wore nothing more than a towel each slung across their waists and most often the shower and the ensuing activity had woken Desmond up enough to be actually coherent. After the teeth came the beard that had sprouted overnight, at this time both were skilled enough to take care of the stubble quick enough so that it didn’t take up a too big portion of the morning. It was helpful that both only suffered from light hair growth.  
Altair left the bathroom then to leave Desmond the room and privacy to empty his bladder, a business the other had already taken care of while Desmond was still lost in the warm comfort of their bed.  
When Desmond was finished he abandoned the towel for good and walked into the bedroom, where Altair was already half dressed. No matter in how much of a hurry they were at this point they would always take the time to exchange a long and passionate kiss, free of morning breath, one naked body pressed against one half dressed.  
It was then that the first words were spoken on the day, and it was Desmond’s favorite part of the day when he stood there, Altair’s arms tight around him, the soft feeling of his newly shaved chin against his cheek and the unmistakable smell of Altair in his nose, despite the shower they just had.   
“Good morning Desmond.” Altair said and smiled as Desmond mumbled a reply against his shoulder.


	17. Spooning

As different as their wake up times often were, they tried to go to sleep at the same time. Mornings, or what passed for a morning on their night schedule, were often about routine, going about the business of the day and more often than not, hectic. But when the day (night) was done they had all the time of the world to fall asleep in each other’s arms.  
At least that’s what Desmond liked to think about their daily life. He often had the luxury to sleep in and he relished in that privilege, but Altair was usually up and about the moment he woke up. So Desmond took special joy in their evening rituals, even if their evenings most often were actually mornings but who cared about details.  
There was no routine here like they had in the morning, whenever one of them decided it was time to go to bed the other likely followed and soon they found themselves snuggled under the covers, sometimes only to cuddle, often enough for dirtier things.  
Today had the latter been the case and now Desmond lied panting on the tussled sheets, body lined with sweat and the warmth of his lover’s embrace was still lingering on his skin. Dammit, Altair could work him. Altair returned from wherever he had disappeared and chuckled lightly as he saw his spent lover lying on the bed, taking up most of the space and looking as if he was about to fall asleep on the spot.  
It had something satisfying to know he was responsible for Desmond’s condition. He nudged Desmond’s form with his hand, earning him a growl and something akin to a shrug. Altair grinned to himself, Desmond wasn’t aware of how adorable he could be at times.   
With a bit more nudging and some pushing Altair managed to gain some space on the bed and he climbed in behind Desmond, covering them both with the blanket. He pressed against Desmond’s bare back, pulling his body against his chest until Desmond’s head rested on his arm. He could feel the cool sweat on the other’s skin and the light tremble that rocked him as their bodies pressed together.  
“You should say something if it’s too much for you.” Altair pointed out, knowing very well that Desmond liked it rough but would always be grumpy and sore afterwards. Desmond snorted but snuggled closer into Altair’s arms, the warmth behind him a comfort. “As if you would stop.” He grumbled, more to uphold the act than out of true irritation.  
Altair considered that for a moment, sure he wouldn’t stop so easily, but… “I would stop if you meant it.” He stated, hand treading with Desmond’s as he spoke. “I won’t do anything you don’t like.” He continued, nudging his leg between Desmond’s to get even closer to his partner.   
“I know.” Desmond smiled in the secrecy of his face turned away from Altair. His eyes found the ring lying on the bedside table and the smile only widened.  
“I know.”   
And with that they both fell asleep, bodies pressed into each other and the faint trace of a smile etched on their faces.


	18. Doing something together

It was a cool night and Desmond was grateful for the comfort of his hood pulled up and protecting him against the worst of the autumn wind. Had anyone of the people below looked up they had seen two hooded white figures, perching on the edge of a flat roof, silently watching over the crowd. But the night was cool and the wind biting, no one bothered to look up.  
A movement next to him caught Desmond’s eyes, Altair made a quick gesture with his hand, signaling that the person they were looking for was not down there on the plaza they were overlooking. They had searched for a while now, following a faint trail of red but whenever they thought they came close it turned out to be another false lead or a dead end. It could have been tiring but strangely Desmond found that the hunt itself was much more thrilling than the actual fighting.  
Maybe it was the person next to him, Altair’s presence made the night seem brighter and much more alive, but no matter what it was, Desmond loved every second of it. He pushed himself up and followed Altair, running over the roof to a gap where the distance to the next building was smaller and he jumped, not with as much grace as Altair but still he felt like flying.   
The adjacent building was higher so Desmond had aimed for one of the windows to hang on to, his fingers digging into the cool stone and his shoes thumping against the concrete wall. It had taken him a lot of coaxing and a lot of prior training to actually attempt this sort of jump. But now he had mastered it as he had mastered all the other things Altair had taught him, but despite his prowess the thrill of the flight remained, the short moment of suspense when he was in midair, the adrenaline rush induced by that grain of doubt if he was able to make it this time too.   
They quickly scaled the wall, Altair reached the top first and he bent down to grab Desmond’s arm and pulled him up, his scarred mouth pulled into a smirk and the same light burning in his eyes than in Desmond’s. He enjoyed this as much as his partner.   
Altair’s hand lingered only a moment longer than necessary on Desmond’s arm before Altair was off again, running and leaping, Desmond short on his heels. They stopped again on a ledge overlooking the outskirts of a park, there were only a few lamp posts, half of them broken but there it was, the thick trail of red, unmistakably against the washed out grey of the world. This couldn’t be a false lead, it was too fresh and too strong for that. They finally found their target.   
Altair dropped down from the ledge, his boots made almost no sound against the carpet of dirt and grass and he waved his hand again, signaling for Desmond to follow him through the trees. Desmond did, jumping and grasping at one branch that stuck out, what little foliage was left rustled but the sound was lost in the howling of the wind.   
He followed the blue glowing figure on the ground, closing in on their prey and when he saw Altair darting behind the cover of a big gnarled tree trunk he knew they had reached it. There it was, a figure surrounded with eerie red glow, walking hurriedly along a dirt path, tossing glances over their back every now and then. Desmond let his vision return to normal looked over to Altair, meeting his gaze before nodding at the silent signal he received.   
They struck as one.


	19. In formal wear

Desmond had to admit the sight was rare but nonetheless pleasing. He was so used to seeing Altair in white that he truly could appreciate him wearing black for once. Black that was actually in his zone of clothing comfort and wasn’t anything close to leather.  
The shirt had been a tad too small, showing off Altair’s muscles but the jacket swallowed the sight up again. Still Desmond imagined to see the muscles rippling underneath the expensive Italian suit- a gift from Ezio. Neither Desmond nor Altair owned a suit themselves but Ezio had been eager enough to supply, seeing that it was his wedding and that Desmond had agreed to be best man, it had not only been ‘a pleasure’ but ‘an honor’ too.  
They were currently waiting on the man in question, who took ridiculously long to prepare, even Sofia, his soon to be bride had long been finished. Desmond was counting the seconds until Sofia would finally have enough and drag her future husband out personally. But just before that could happen, Leonardo who had helped Ezio with preparing came out and gave a thumbs up, setting everyone in a flurry of haste. Everyone except Altair who just watched with mild amusing when his partner rushed off to get the rings and a very stern Lucy dragged off Sofia to find her father who would later present her.  
He would have been annoyed by all the drama that had been going on but he kept thinking about his own wedding, the one that would soon happen and he couldn’t help the small victorious grin that sneaked on his lips. The sight of Desmond well groomed in a suit was thrilling, but the thought of Desmond in a suit with his ring on the right hand was even more so. However he would not allow for their wedding to become so much like a bad soap opera like this one. And he certainly wouldn’t invite as many guests, he wanted a small ceremony and he knew that Desmond didn’t want too much audience either.  
But this was Ezio’s wedding, and Altair wasn’t even going to try to wrap his head around the fact Ezio had actually managed that. He even quit his stripper job for Sofia. Altair watched on as everyone finally settled down and then sure enough the band started playing the moment Ezio had stepped onto the dais with Desmond at his side and Altair subconsciously licked his lips as his eyes once again fell on the other man’s form. He would love to fuck Desmond in that suit, making him squirm and beg while his hands were bound with his own tie.  
Later.  
Altair knew he was supposed to sit down on his designated chair, somewhere on the groom’s side but he much rather observed everything from his position under one of the raised pillars that hold some stupid flower decoration. He would have climbed said pillar and watched from above but that would only get him a lecture from Desmond and so he stayed begrudgingly grounded.  
Sofia entered the scene, beaming as she clasped her hand onto her father’s and the crowd went ‘ohhh’ and ‘ahhh’ as if they hadn’t just seen her flitting around waiting for her groom. Ezio on the other hand, the only one who hadn’t seen her prior, was silent ,eyes as wide as saucers and then he said something to Desmond that made him blush. Maybe Altair would ask him later what that had been.  
And then the ceremony started, causing many tears among the spectators and even Altair was smiling fondly as he watched the pure joy in the eyes of the newlyweds. He looked forward to seeing that look in Desmond’s eyes.  
Maybe he should move up the wedding date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued in chapter 20


	20. Dancing

As soon as all the ceremonials were over the wedding turned into a party. Seeing as this was an Auditore celebration no one really was surprised. The band played modern dance music, the cake had been appropriately mutilated by a knife and enough alcohol was in circulation to make a ship full of sailors drunk out of their minds.  
Desmond had taken over the bar for a while, mixing up a few Shirley Temples (with alcohol added of course) and subsequently being responsible for at least half of the drunkards that would stagger home at the end of the wedding. He himself hadn’t drunken that much though, he was not in the mood to lose control and Altair, never that much of a drinker anyway, was thinking similar.  
Ezio and Sofia had disappeared a short while ago, trying to sneak away unnoticed, but Federico had caught them and rallied half of the guests to escort the young couple to the car that was waiting to take them to their hotel. Ezio’s family was quite loaded, being bank owners kind of brought that with it, and so not only the hotel belonged to the Auditores but also the private jet and the island that would function as their honey moon.  
Talk about cheesy.  
Ezio being a stripper was merely a hobby, born from his father’s demands for him to take a job on his own. But now Ezio was ready to settle down and Desmond was glad to see his buddy happy like that. It reminded him of the night Altair had proposed and the absolute bliss he had felt in that moment. After this evening however he was no longer sure if that had been a good idea after all. The thought of this many people watching while he was walking down the aisle was positively terrifying.  
But he would handle that, all he wanted was to be together with Altair and if that mean facing his fears he would gladly do so.  
If only to see Altair in a suit again. Desmond really liked the thought of Altair sprawled out on their wedding bed, shirt half open, exposing his toned chest, the black of his jacket pooled around him. Subconsciously Desmond licked his lips, tongue darting over the scar on the right side, a trait he shared with Altair.  
The man in question just happened to walk up to him in that moment, a smirk on his lips and Desmond’s heart made a jump at the sight, a certain warmth forming in his lower body. Damn, Altair was hot. And then he did something that took Desmond completely off guard. He reached out his hand and bowed, a formal gesture that Desmond had only seen in movies but even that cheesy move seemed suave when Altair did it.  
“May I request this dance?” He asked in a seductive voice that should be forbidden and Desmond gaped for a few seconds until he had recovered enough to give an answer, even if it only was a dumbfounded ‘yes’. Altair smirked again and took his hand and in that exact second the band switched songs to some slow track and Desmond had the inkling that a certain someone was responsible for that.  
Altair pulled him close, until Desmond was snug in his arms and then he started moving, stirring him out onto the dance floor. It actually felt nice. Desmond closed his eyes and let Altair guide him with the rhythm of the music; he could feel the other’s heartbeat and the warmth that radiated from his body. He felt safe in these arms.  
Something soft was pushed against his temple and he blinked to see Altair press a kiss on his head, that smirk on his lips again, quirking the scar in that one way that made Desmond’s heart beat faster. Yes, Desmond wouldn’t mind marrying this guy at all, but he would damn well make sure to wipe that smirk of his face during their wedding night.


	21. Baking

It was one of those rare days when both of them had off. It was also the day of Malik’s birthday and Desmond had made the mistake of promising him a cake. The other had rightfully laughed at that, Desmond could create some edible dishes but all his kitchen skills ended when it came to baking. But the laughter had only spurred him on and so he had declared he would not only bring a cake but also the best cake Malik had ever tasted.  
And he had been dead serious.  
Now however Desmond was slowly coming to terms with the thought of having to buy a cake and officially admit defeat, Malik would smell the cheating ten miles against the wind. The kitchen was a mess, whipped cream on the ceiling, discarded attempts at dough sitting in several bowls, half cut strawberries lied half forgotten next to the blender.   
At first Desmond had wanted to go all out, making an impressive Black Forest cherry pie but soon he had realized that might have been an over estimation of his own abilities. Next try was a strawberry cake with cream filling but even that had been too difficult, damn cream didn’t want to stay fluffy. So finally he had returned to the beginners section of his baking book and had chosen the simplest thing he could find, a marble cake.  
Altair came into the kitchen while Desmond was pouring flour into the bowl, eggs already cracked, followed by sugar. He sighed as he noticed his partner standing in the door, eying the mess with a cocked eyebrow. “Cakes are hard.” He cast a reproachful look to the counter where he had wrestled with the dough for the cherry cake, dark stains were all over the surface and even on the cabinets on the wall.  
Altair didn’t say anything he just pushed himself up from the doorframe and stepped behind Desmond. “Careful not too much sugar or your teeth will rot.” He placed his hands on Desmonds and stopped the downpour of sugar that threatened to frown the poor innocent eggs. “The key to making a good cake is adding the ingredients bit by bit.” He explained while he grabbed the milk bottle that stood waiting on the counter and poured a certain amount in a measuring cup.  
Usually Desmond would have been aware of Altair’s presence directly behind him, the closeness of their bodies, but right now his mind was too occupied with the devilry that were cakes. “It’s too late now but we’ll see what we can do.” Altair smirked to himself as Desmond let out an exasperated huff. “Since when do you know how to bake?” That could only be described as unfair in Desmond’s opinion, Altair could eat without gaining fat, he was well trained and didn’t seem to put any effort into it and now he could also bake? Definitely unfair.  
Altair just shrugged. “Marble cake can hardly be called baking.” He said nonchalantly and ducked immediately afterwards to dodge the spoon Desmond threw at him. “It’s easy really” He grabbed Desmond’s hand before he could throw the flour bag at him and lifted it up to his mouth, placing a soft kiss on one of the knuckles before he licked a small drop of dough that had landed there. Desmond snatched the hand away but he had a slight pink tint on his cheeks and refrained from throwing anything else.  
He allowed Altair to show him how to stir the dough until it was fluffy then dividing it up and adding sugar and cocoa powder to one half. Altair then produced a small flask out of one cabinet and poured a few drops on the dark dough part. “Bitter almond oil. Believe me, Malik will love it.” He grinned deviously and then dumped the dough on its pale counterpart already in the baking form.   
Desmond had no clue what bitter almond oil was or what it tasted like, but Altair was Malik’s oldest friend, if anyone it would be him to know what the other liked. Altair programmed the oven and continued to explain the secret of baking to Desmond. At least it sounded like that to Desmond, he had no idea why the temperature of the ingredients should have to do anything with the result.   
“And for the final touch…” Altair pulled a few bars of dark chocolate out of the top cabinet and Desmond grinned. Even he knew that Malik was a sucker for chocolate, the more cocoa the better. They prepared the chocolate while the cake was baking and when Altair finally pulled it out he let Desmond have the honor of smearing it with melted chocolate, but only after lecturing him about waiting until the cake and the chocolate were both adequately cooled.   
After all the chocolate had been used and after the addition of sprinkles and gummy bears and a few smarties, the cake looked positively like it belonged on a children’s birthday party, but Desmond was nevertheless proud of his firs cake.  
And Malik’s face when he saw it was all worth it.


	22. In battle, side by side

His breath came in puffs and Desmond was faintly aware that his side was stinging. But none of that was important at that moment. The adrenaline in his system blinded all that out.   
It had started innocently enough; they were given a hit and had proceeded to stalk their target until he was somewhere secluded and then strike. But to both of their surprises the target hadn’t been as clueless as he was supposed to be and then they finally cornered him in a dark alley way, five men had sprouted out of nowhere, greeting them with guns.  
Someone should have told them that guns didn’t sit well with Altair.  
It had been a close thing the first attack, Altair had charged, body kept low, and one of the men had shot at him, and Desmond could have sworn he hit but Altair didn’t budge and was on the man in the blink of an eye. From then on guns were kind of useless, because as wrecked as those men were, none of them wanted to shot at their comrade.   
Desmond had taken out one man in the initial moment of surprise but the remaining three plus their boss refused to give up this easily. Altair had managed to kick one’s gun out of his hand, forcing him to rely on his knife instead but the others still were potentially dangerous in everything that was not close range.   
One man tried to butt Desmond over the head with his gun but he missed as Desmond whirled around just in time to land a blow on his unprotected kidney. He used the opportunity to wrench the gun from his hand and finished what the other had started with a well aimed blow to his temple. He was out like a lamp.  
Altair shouted something, fending off two of their attackers, making it seem as if he was merely a cat playing with its prey. Desmond lifted the gun and aimed at the boss, their initial target and whistled to get his attention. He had stayed mostly out of the fight so far, watching and waiting for an opportunity to turn the tables.   
“Call back your men.” Desmond commanded, his eyes darting to the side where Altair was blocking the knife of his attackers, pinning his arm behind his back and popping the shoulder joint out of its socket with a nasty sound, leaving his victim wailing in agony, followed by the sound of metal hitting concrete as he dropped his weapon.  
The boss hesitantly raised his hands, his eyes trained on the gun aimed at him and barked a quick order through clenched teeth. Desmond watched Altair and his attacker again, expecting the latter to withdraw but to his surprise he instead lunged forward at Altair who was startled for just a second, but it was enough. A fist connected solidly with his jaw and he stumbled, having lost his footing in the process and fighting for balance just long enough to watch helpless as the boss raised his gun to point at Desmond.  
He realized too late that it had been a decoy, because in that moment when Altair had been distracted Desmond had moved his arm with the gun in an attempt to salvage the situation, now no longer pointing at the boss but at the blank wall next to him.   
There wouldn’t be time-  
For a moment everything seemed to freeze and Desmond watched with white eyes as the finger at the trigger twitched ever so slightly and then pulled down with frightening purpose. Something white moving incredibly fast blurred his sight and then something barreled into him at the same time as the sound of the gun ripped apart the adrenaline soaked silence.  
The white was suddenly no longer white but red and stained with blood and the white wasn’t just white it was a body, a body that had pushed Desmond out of the way of the bullet.   
A body that was Altair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued in the next part


	23. Arguing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuation from the last part

Everything that happened directly afterwards was a blur in Desmond’s memory. He remembered another gunshot but this one had gone amiss and then the sounds of a dying man. The next clear image in his mind was Altair lying on the ground, hand clenched around his shoulder were the bullet had broke through the skin on both sides and the rising waves of panic in his chest.  
There was so much blood that for a second Desmond was sure Altair would die from the blood loss. But while Desmond was ready to spiral down into panic Altair’s steady voice forced him to stay grounded. And Desmond obeyed, applying pressure to the back of Altair’s shoulder and ripping his own shirt to bind around the wound.  
And finally the most important message had settled in his mind, the wound was not deadly, not if the necessary care was taken and both he and Altair had been schooled in the treatment of wounds and injuries. Somehow they had made it home, Altair waling with an expression of pain etched onto his face and Desmond fussing around him but they had made it.  
The bodies would have to remain were they fell, they had neither the time nor strength to take care of that but the police would just file them under gang war and that was that. Desmond had calmed down enough to be rational again; he made Altair sit down on the couch and went to fetch the first aid kit, some alcohol and water.   
Thankfully he wouldn’t have to operate the bullet out since it had been a clean shot through. But Altair would need stitches. Altair’s clothes were blood stained and so were his own but right now neither cared. While he worked to carefully clean the wound and prepare needle and thread Desmond had to think back to the moment when he was sure his life would end.  
“Why did you do that?” He asked, realizing with a start that his voice was shaking. Altair just shrugged, but regretting that instantly as he winced in pain. “I had too.” He gritted his teeth as Desmond pushed the newly disinfected needle through his skin. “But you could have been killed.” Desmond had to stop for a second because his hands were shaking. That moment of pure terror when he thought Altair had in fact been dead would forever haunt his nightmares.  
“It would have been worth it.” Altair said and his voice sounded so unconcerned as if he were talking about groceries and not the fact that he would readily give his life away for Desmond. And for some reason it made Desmond irrationally angry. “How can you say that?” He realized he was close to shouting but he couldn’t stop himself. If Altair would have died because of him he would have never been able to forgive himself. Desmond almost shoved the needle through Altai’s back this time but he reminded himself to be careful, lest he would make the wound worse.   
“Desmond-“ Desmond cut him off. “You could have died.” He pulled the needle back out of Altair’s shoulder and almost ripped the thread off. “You could have died. God dammit you could still die from this.” Desmond hated how his voice was breaking and how his vision was cloudy with what he assumed to be tears.  
“Never do that again.” He pulled the needle through one more time and quickly tied a knot so he could focus on the argument. “Don’t throw your life away for me.” Now he was growling, Altair finally turned around fully once he noticed that Desmond was finished with the wound on his back. Part of his mind realized that Altair was shaking too, but if with pain or anger he couldn’t tell.   
“Desmond, stop it.” Altair gripped Desmond’s shoulders and tried to get him to look at him. Desmond raised his fists to pound them against Altair’s chest but stopped in the last second. “I hate you.” He growled instead, looking down because he couldn’t meet the look in Altair’s eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> continued in the next part


	24. Making up afterwards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the last part

The silence was suffocating. Altair hadn’t said anything to Desmond’s last words, he just sat there, slowly breathing and there was no way for Desmond to tell if he was angry. And then Altair raised a hand, slowly, but still Desmond flinched because surely he deserved to be hit for his last spiteful words.  
There was the tiniest hesitation but then Altair rested his hand on Desmond’s cheek, shoulder still throbbing with pain but he shoved the feeling away. This was more important. He could understand Desmond’s anger, hell he would probably feel the same way if their positions were reversed. But now was not the right time to be arguing.   
“Look at me.” He said softly, tilting Desmond’s chin upwards so that the other was forced to look at him. Desmond was crying. Altair shifted a bit so that his injured shoulder got out of the way before he pulled Desmond against his bare chest. “It’s okay.” He shushed, but he could feel Desmond tremble in his arms.  
“I’m sorry, I just…” Desmond fought for words and Altair could feel the hiccup more than he heard it. “I was so afraid you were dead.” His hands clenched around the hem of Altair’s pants where he had clung onto in lack of a better alternative. “I couldn’t live without you.” He hiccupped again and buried his face deep in the hair on Altair’s chest, his breath ghosting cool over the sweat covered skin.  
“I wouldn’t die from something like this.” Altair said, his voice betraying him with a slight tremble. His heart ached at the sight of Desmond so defeated at the pure thought of losing him. He should scold him, he had known the risk of the job when he had taken it up, he had agreed on keeping pleasure and business apart, but Altair knew better than that. It was a thin line they were walking, being so close while working in such a dangerous business.   
Truth was he hadn’t been rational when he put himself between the bullet and Desmond, he should have been but he couldn’t. The only thought in his head then had been fear for Desmond’s life and so he had acted without hesitation. And in that moment it hadn’t mattered for a second that he could have died. Now it did though.   
“I’m not going to leave you.” Desmond sniffled and lifted his head up to look at Altair. His cheeks were puffy and his eyes rimmed with red but he was smiling, faintly but still. “Promise?” He whispered and Altair felt a pang of guilt stab through his chest. Yet he continued, forcing a reassuring smile. “Promise.”   
Even though he knew that he had no guarantee that he would be able to keep that promise.


	25. Gazing into each other's eyes

After that ‘incident’ it had come to Desmond to provide for both of them for the time Altair needed to recover. Desmond had to work a few extra hours at the bar and taking up a few more hits than he’d liked but he gladly did it if it meant that Altair could get his well needed rest.  
Altair was a fast healer, but still a wound like this needed a lot of care and time. While Desmond was out for work Altair lied on the couch and watched TV or read a book. Only when Desmond came home would he rise from his spot and shuffle over into the bedroom to sleep in the arms of his partner. No matter how late that would be.  
Desmond was tired when he came home that night, or rather morning but his eyes lit up nevertheless when he spotted the white figure on the couch. The TV was on but muted and Altair seemed to have fallen asleep with a book on his stomach. He tried to be as silent as possible, as much as he liked to sleep in Altair’s arms he didn’t want to wake him specifically for that.  
After dropping his gear somewhere in the hall he made his way over to the couch and kneeled down on the carpet. His tiredness was abruptly gone and just staring at Altair’s sleeping face was calming and reassuring. Desmond leaned his chin on his arms propped on the couch edge and just sat there, watching his lover in his peaceful slumber.  
There was a soft stubble on his jaw, Altair had slacked off with shaving since he wasn’t too keen on walking around with his shoulder still hurting but Desmond didn’t mind. He found the dark shadows on Altair’s face weirdly attractive.  
Before he realized it himself he was leaning in and pressed a soft kiss on the side of Altair’s mouth. When he pulled back, Altair’s eyes were open, glowing warmly at him. Desmond smiled and leaned in for another kiss, longer this time and he took the time to taste the unique flavor that was Altair. He pulled back again, and now there was a mirroring smile on Altair’s lips. “Welcome back.” He said, voice still groggy from sleep.  
Desmond shifted a bit until he was more comfortable on the floor and rested his head on his arms again to gaze up into Altair’s eyes. He felt perfectly content, just sitting there and locking his eyes with Altair. The other didn’t seem to mind at least and soon his hand found its way into Desmond’s hair.   
The room was warm and the light of the TV threw weird colors over Altair’s features from time to time but Desmond was too lost to notice. He could spend hours like this, with Altair’s hand in his hair and that soft smile that the other had solely reserved for him.


	26. Getting married

Altair had spent quite a bit of time imagining this, day, this moment, the moment when Desmond would finally be his. But no dream of his, no half awake fantasy came close to the real thing. It was brilliant.  
It was a small ceremony, only their close friends had been invited and it was such a different atmosphere than Ezio’s wedding had been. The weather couldn’t be nicer and the air ringed with laughter and Altair caught more than one approving glance thrown into his direction.   
Malik was grumbling as he fixed his tie, but Altair knew from experience that this was just Malik’s way of showing affection. And honestly if the other suddenly had offered a hug Altair would have filed seriously doubted his sanity. And while Malik became more and more disgruntled, Altair grew more excited with every second that passed. He couldn’t wait to see Desmond in his suit, he couldn’t wait to put the ring on his finger and see the love in the other’s eyes.  
Even though time seemed to drag its lazy feet, the clock eventually struck 3pm and it was time to head out and face his destiny. At least it felt like this to Altair. Malik guided him out of the room he had prepared in and out onto the field where the ceremony would take place. Their band was smaller than Ezio’s but made up for it by zealous enthusiasm and soon Altair forgot that the band was even there, when his eyes fell on the person that neared the central dais from the other side.   
Desmond was accompanied by his father, a fact that seemed to embarrass him and he looked everywhere but in Altair’s direction. They reached the center at the same time and instantly the band fell silent. Altair wasn’t aware of Malik stepping back to give them space, wasn’t aware of the hushed presences behind them, he was only aware of Desmond’s eyes glowing at him.  
It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in this world.  
It was a quiet exchange of vows, both weren’t exactly fans of tearful displays of emotions, but still when Altair heard Desmond’s voice, saying those two simple words; he felt the soft sting of tears in his eyes. When it was Altair’s turn he spoke without hesitation, without a hint of doubt in his voice and his heart swelled with joy when he saw the smile ignite on Desmond’s features.  
He grabbed Desmond’s hand in his and slipped on the ring, accepting his own ring in return and then he pulled Desmond into an all devouring kiss, letting the other know just how much he loved him. Desmond trembled in his arms but then wrapped his arms around him and pressed into the kiss and Altair smiled, lost in the feeling of complete joy that took over.  
If he had died that moment, he would have died the happiest man on earth.


	27. On one of their birthdays

Altair was never one to celebrate his birthday. He got a year older and that was it. But ever since he knew Desmond, the other had tried to get him to celebrate but he had always declined. Desmond had not given up though and now, after they were married Altair felt as if he could indulge him.  
And that’s why he was currently waiting in their living room for the ‘surprise’ Desmond had planned. He wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted to know what exactly Desmond had in mind for him, but he wouldn’t back down now.   
The door opened and in stepped Desmond. Altair had half expected that Desmond would drag him into the bar or something, inviting all his friends to celebrate, instead he wore only casual clothes and carried a bottle of champagne and two glasses in his hands. Altair had to admit he was surprised, but not unpleasantly so.   
Desmond smiled and placed the glasses on the side table, he had even thought of bringing coasters. He sat down next to Altair and poured the champagne into the glasses, before he spoke. “I wanted to cook something, but I didn’t want to poison you.” He grinned lightly and pushed one glass in Altair’s hand. “I figured you would like a private evening with me just as much.” Altair couldn’t have agreed more.  
They raised their glasses and Desmond spoke a short toast before they drank and Altair was again pleasantly surprised about the high quality of the champagne. It wasn’t that he drank that much alcohol but he knew how to enjoy some quality beverage from time to time. And he appreciated the thought Desmond had out into it, especially since the promise of a ‘private evening’ was far more appealing to him than a night out.   
They drank in silence and then Desmond leaned over the edge of the couch and fished something from the floor. It was a small box, wrapped in cheesy wrapping paper and the look on Desmond’s face as he gave it to Altair was more than excited. Desmond was bouncing in his seat the whole time while Altair fiddled with the paper. Under the wrapping was a cardboard box and when he opened it he had to force a smile.  
There was a framed picture in the box, one of Desmond and Altair on their wedding, standing next to next and smiling in the camera. He had felt dumb taking that picture, smiling into cameras wasn’t his forte but seeing this picture now with the evident looks of love and joy in both their eye, he felt undeniably warm. He hadn’t seen that picture before, it had disappeared in the tons of wedding pictures that had been taken and he had forgotten it until now. Desmond must have snatched and prepared it.   
Altair carefully set the picture down and pulled Desmond into a deep kiss, the joy over the present pouring into the gesture. Desmond smirked against his lips, he had been a bit nervous for getting Altair ‘only’ a photograph but the reaction he got spoke clearly otherwise.   
Altair decided that birthday celebrations weren’t so bad at all.


	28. Chapter 28

Desmond couldn’t help but feel that this was a rather ridiculous idea. Then again that most likely was not so far from the truth. But to hell with being mature all the time, Desmond thought that both he and Altair deserved a reprieve from their everyday routine. And if it got him an excuse to see Altair half naked and cursing under his breath about it- the better. Not that he ever needed an excuse to see Altair naked.  
There were a few things about Desmond Altair didn’t know, and one of them was his wickedly good skill at playing poker. If he had known he certainly wouldn’t be in this predicament. It had sounded such a fun idea at first, playing ‘strip poker’, but that was before he had been forced to realize that as good as a poker player he regarded himself to be, Desmond was way better. And only because he had felt generous and purposely lost one game, Desmond had shed a piece of clothing at all.  
Of course he denied the intentionality of his loss, but Altair knew better. He would feel humiliated but the heated stares Desmond gave him every time he looked at him more than made it up to him. Altair was sure he could get something out of it, if he just played it out well enough. Or maybe he just had to keep losing.  
As readable as Desmond was most of the time, now he gave nothing away, he just looked at his cards with an almost bored expression, the one he had carried for almost the whole duration of their game, except for the moments when he laid his eyes on Altair.   
Granted, it wasn’t the best idea to play a game of poker with only two people, but at this point neither of them cared. It even became more and more obvious that Desmond got distracted by Altair and paid less attention to the cards in his hand or those on the table. Maybe Altair could use that to his advantage but he decided then that it would be much more fun to just go with the flow to see what Desmond would do to him once he was fully naked.   
He should go subtle about it however. He wouldn’t make it too easy though. Desmond raised the stakes and Altair followed, shedding a rather useful card in the process. He didn’t want to risk winning after all.   
It didn’t take long for Altair to lose another part of his outfit after that, and another, and another. “Please don’t tell me you’re planning on keeping your hidden blade on until the end, do you?” Desmond asked with a quirked eyebrow. The thought of Altair naked with only his blade on was kind of enticing. Altair shrugged noncommittally and pulled of his boxers with a self satisfied smirk on his lips. “I always feel better with two blades on.” He said as Desmond’s eyes were almost magnetically attracted to his half-hard cock. Damn that staring had made him horny.


	29. Doing something sweet

It seemed to become a regularity in their now married life that Altair and Desmond did something stupid. Well stupid was certainly debatable but it couldn’t be denied that their activities transcended the boundaries of ‘normal’.   
Currently neither of them cared though.  
Altair pressed the back of his hand between his teeth to stifle the moan that threatened to escape. He had always known that Desmond could do some nice things with his tongue but nothing could compare to what he was doing right now. To think that at first he assumed this was a bad idea. The brush had tickled at first when Desmond used it to apply the chocolate cream, but when he had exchanged it with his tongue to lick the chocolate away again, his mind had drastically changed.  
Desmond used his tongue to get every bit of chocolate on Altair, he dug in every crease of skin, he cleared every inch of skin with meticulous care until Altair was covered in a slight sheen of saliva. And that was only the beginning.   
Once he was finished with Altair’s chest Desmond decided that he had earned himself a special treat. He took the tube with the chocolate cream and drew a trail downward until he stopped just shy above the rim of Altair’s underwear. He could feel the tremble in Altair’s stomach as he tensed his muscles in anticipation. Altair had so far bitten back almost all sounds but Desmond was intent on breaking the resolve to be silent. When he would reach the main dish he was sure that Altair would reward him with proper moans and that special little groan he always did when Desmond first sucked him in.  
But until then he would play a little more. One of Altair’s hands was grasping the sheets, all he wanted to do was to push Desmond down further and down again but he forced himself not to. He wouldn’t push Desmond into something he was all too willing to give on his own – in his own time. Desmond followed the trail of chocolate he had laid out for himself and used his tongue to apply pressure at random spots, circling around the navel, clearing the sticky mess out of the soft hair growing on Altair’s stomach.   
Altair groaned half with pleasure and half with impatience as Desmond stopped short of his waistband. A finger hooked under the elastic band and gently pulled and then Altair was free, finally, and he groaned again as breath ghosted over his sensitive skin. It was torture, sweet devilish torture.  
He loved every second of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued in the last part


	30. Doing something hot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the last part

At one point Desmond had abandoned the chocolate tube in favor of focusing his attention more thoroughly on Altair. But not before he had generously covered Altair’s dick in it. He was now in the process of cleaning up the mess he had made. Altair had long given up the attempt of biting back his moans, Desmond’s tongue was simply too lascivious.  
Altair’s hand was buried in Desmond’s hair, his fingers tangled in the sweat damp locks. It was a whole new sensation, Desmond’s tongue was purposeful, he didn’t just aimed to pleasure Altair, he was after a price, taking what he wanted regardless of what it did to Altair.  
Oh and what it did.  
Desmond’s tongue pressed against the base of Altair’s cock where it connected with his abdomen, sending an almost violent jolt through Altair’s body. The chocolate had gotten into the creases of skin that had formed there and Desmond was determined to get every last drop. Altair’s breath was ragged, he had a hard time focusing, not that there was anything he needed to focus on.   
“Desmond.” He groaned, fingers flexing in dark hair and he feebly tried to pull him up as he felt his climax closing in. It was a pity for the remaining chocolate maybe but he didn’t want to make a mess on Desmond’s face. A hand closed around the base of his shaft and applied pressure. Desmond licked one last time along the whole length before he slid up and pressed a kiss on Altair’s lips. The faint taste of himself intermingled with the strong chocolate flavor was strangely intoxicating.  
The hand around his cock tightened, Desmond’s thumb glided over the sensitive slit and Altair’s mind was lost in the haze of orgasm. He was aware of Desmond’s clothed body pressing against him, the smell of chocolate lingering in the air and the gentle hand that stroked him, guiding him through the aftermath of his climax.   
It took quite a while for Altair to regain his breath, he lied there for a moment, one arm draped over his eyes until he had calmed down to think clearly again. Desmond stroked his sides and hummed quietly, grinning at himself at the sight of the complete mess Altair had become. Who knew that chocolate could have these effects? He would get Altair to do this to him at one point, that expression on Altair’s face when he came had been so delicious.   
“Wow.” Altair finally said and dropped the arm from his eyes to look at the other. Desmond’s grin was rivaling that of the Cheshire cat. “We should do that more often.” Altair smiled and pulled Desmond down for another kiss.   
He still tasted like chocolate.


End file.
